


Ice Princess

by Uniasus



Series: An Icy Royal Family [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Timeline, Eventual Smut, F/F, Women in the Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniasus/pseuds/Uniasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivier knows first hand the troubles of being a woman in the military, and this little blonde at the bottom of the stairs doesn't look like she can handle it. But Riza's got a goal, and that's a start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Princess

**Author's Note:**

> **Dedication:** To my sister, who has been hounding me to write this piece since I published Ice Queen as a gift for her. Apparently that fic didn't have the, ahem, 'action', she was looking for. 
> 
> **Pre-Reading Note:** This fic is a companion to Ice Queen, it references and overlaps with some of the events depicted in that story. You could read this one alone, or even read this one first, but it makes most sense if you read Ice Queen first.

She knew what this was. It was a dismissal. Publicly, officially, too much rode on her career and image of it. She was the military's golden girl – a demotion or discharge would not sit well with the public. Women pushing for reform would either attack the military or shun it, and Fuhrer King Bradly couldn't have that, no. With all the border skirmishes going on, and the war with Ishval just getting started, the military had to be in the public's good graces. 

So Oliver got punished for her uppity nature and failure to conform with a more personal punishment. The rapes in the warehouse, she could handle. Would handle. Even now, after having sent her letters and castrating Stout, it stung that so many of her peers had seen her weak like that, had views of women as nothing but kitchen and bedroom slaves. But it also meant that many high ranking officers saw her as a threat, which was an image she liked. Olivier wanted to cultivate that. 

But this new order from Bradly wouldn't allow that. Sending her to Fort Briggs grated so many buttons. It prevented further revenge and it also prevented her future involvement in fighting with Ishval. Someone else would step into the public spotlight – brushing Olivier aside due to inactivity. And when no one cared about her...

Olivier didn't like to think about what the Fuhrer might do then. He was abusive, she had the scars from a fork to prove it, and had been involved in planning the warehouse attack. And that was with media attention directed on her. 

But, she resolved, she would handle that. The real issue was there really wasn't a place for her other than the military. She had joined to prove she was capable of doing the same thing as men and to avoid getting trapped in a marriage that, like most she knew, ended up sad. And the truth was, this game of social politics she had started playing with the other generals was thrilling. When forced to give it up, and she would because she could see Bradly discharging her after a new public star was born, she wouldn't be able to play.

Among the high class, her career was a scandal. One large enough to have hurt two of her sisters' marriage potential. Oliver would be a spinster, and that meant social seclusion. It might give her free reign to practice her swordplay, but ultimately it meant her life would be a shadow of what she wanted it to be. She wanted power and respect, at first just for her but as she realized the effect she had on the common women she wanted them to have the same thing. 

Returning to the Armstrong estate would be a failure. 

Not liking where her future was going, she stormed down the step of Central Command. Normally she released her anger by sparring with someone, but she wanted to be far away from the military as possible right now. Who cared if it was three in the afternoon? She was going home, drinking, and then slashing apart a dozen sand dummies.

“G-general Armstrong!”

She paused on the third stair from the bottom. There was a slender woman standing between the open gates, the guards not letting her in farther. Caramel eyes, honey hair, she was a beauty. And obviously star struck seeing her.

Oliver resumed her stormy march. “If you're thinking about joining, don't,” she said as she went past. This girl was too pretty, she'd get harassed at every turn. 

The woman turned to follow her. “But you did.”

“I'm a different caliber woman than you.”

“How's that?” She sounded surprised, and curious. In most of Olivier's dealing with the press she had mentioned the hardships of being a female in the military, but she had never discouraged women to join. 

“I have ice water for blood.”

“I know it won't be easy.”

“Damn straight it isn't.”

“But, I want to be able to help someone.”

Oliver stopped and turned to stare at the woman before her. She was blushing pink, eyes on the sidewalk while her fingers twisted. There was no steel core to her, not yet, but Olivier could see that this woman was capable of having one. She had followed Olivier despite her frosty words. 

“Walk with me.” She turned on her heel, her march reduced to a stately walk as the young woman fell into step beside her. “Most people who do well in the military are those who have strong personal goals and ambition. Do you have those?”

“I...not really. I don't know what to do really since...since my father passed away. My whole life I took care of him.”

“And now you want to take care of this other person.” Man, this woman was a picture for the mothering type. Not the sort of person who could handle going off to war, as the blonde must certainly expect.

“Yes, he's, he's the only person I know well besides my father.”

Olivier didn't know what tipped her off, but she felt as if she was being given a surface story. One that was true, but not the real reason. That was good, the woman knew how to keep secrets and give information to hide it. She was playing the stereotype.

The brigadier general never considered taking a young female solider under her wing before, maybe because they all seemed content just to be near her or she never found one with promise. But now, this frail thing beside her captured her attention. She had potential, it was hiding behind her insecurity and nervousness, but it was there. 

“What's your name?”

“Riza Hawkeye.”

“Riza Hawkeye, sir. If you're going to be wearing blue, might as well start acting like it.”

Riza smiled, Oliver almost had to squint from how bright it was. “Yes, sir.”

Feeling uncharacteristically possessive, Olivier linked arms with Riza like housewife friends did. “Come with me. If you're going to enlist, you might as well learn what you're getting into.”

Olivier led Riza to her house. While her parents hadn't disowned her, in fact they were quite proud of her, she acted like it for her sisters' sake. She lived only on her military paycheck and had her own house. It was no where near as nice as the Armstrong estate, it had neighbors for crying out loud, but it was practical and thus suitable.

She did have one maid, who let them in and took Riza's coat. She made no comment about her mistress's early arrival.

“Tea, sir?”

“Something stronger.”

Olivier led Riza to the sitting room and the other blonde gingerly sat on the couch. Olivier took the armchair across from her, removing her sword belt to lean it against the arm rest. 

Riza's eyes went to it instantly. “Do you always carry that around with you?”

“Yes. But the important part it that I know how to use it. You have to bleed power from your pores, or you will get a lot of harassment. Knowing I can injure them keeps a lot of soldiers from making advances I don't want. Especially after I wounded the first seven. But there are always the daring ones.”

The maid came in, pushing the liqueur trolly before her and leaving it beside Oliver. She closed the door on her way out. 

“Does that happen often?” Riza asked.

Olivier nodded as she poured two glasses of brandy. Riza was a distraction from her deployment orders, but they were still there and demanding a drink.

“Drink,” she commanded as she set a glass before Riza. The woman took a large swallow and choked.

Olivier chuckled. “It's brandy. You sip it.”

“Oh, I'm new to alcohol.”

“I figured.” Riza was very young. Maybe just a year or two over sixteen. “But yes, it happens. When I first enlisted, there were no sexual harassment policies. There are now, but they aren't very specific and offer only a little protection. And high ranking officers tend to ignore them.”

“So I should learn the sword.”

Olivier snorted. “Sorry, but no. I may have learned how to fight with a sword within a year, but most people take much longer. I already knew how to use it before I signed up. You'd be better with something that doesn't take long to master. Try a gun. It doesn't take that long to learn how to shoot. It'll be longer to get good aim in all types of situations, but being trigger happy even with little skills at first would help.”

Riza nodded. “I'll learn to shoot than. Anything else?”

Straight and to the point, eager to learn. With a bit of polishing Riza could do well. Olivier didn't know if it was the alcohol or the sense that she found a similar spirit, but she found herself telling Riza everything, giving a real picture of a military career for women that had never been in the papers. All the time being looked down upon, people's jealously and effort to ruin you, or at least make life difficult. The expectations. The social effects. And, and this one was totally the brandy's fault, being raped. 

Riza's face at first was so expressive, shocked at the life Olivier was living, but it became stoney as their conversation went on. She was hearing what her life would be like, taking it in, and accepting it. It was a beautiful thing to watch, Olivier thought.

She didn't remember thinking it or moving, but suddenly Olivier was kneeling on the floor between Riza's knees and kissing her. The other blonde was kissing back, hands clutched over her insignia. 

“What a hard life,” Riza mumbled as Olivier moved her mouth to her neck.

“I chose it. And for all its difficulties I rather enjoy it.” Olivier began unbuttoning Riza's blouse, planting kisses on each bit of exposed skin. “It's quite entertaining scaring men. Some just shy of run out of my office.”

Riza ran her fingers through Olivier's hair and she murmured happily before nuzzling her face between Riza's breasts. They weren't as large as her own, but still nice.

Riza laughed. “You impress so me much General. You've done so much for female soldiers. I'm grateful.” She tugged on Olivier's hair and when Olivier brought her head up she was greeted with an eager tongue. “Thank you,” Riza said as they broke apart. 

Olivier had heard from many journalist who interviewed her that she had done so much for women kind. But she had never heard it from the lips of a common woman before. It was a confirmation she was doing good, by her own right and the rights of others. 

She wanted to cry. But she had already turned to stone inside and no tears came. Her inner nose just itched so she returned her face to Riza's breasts. 

The floor was hard under her knees and it reminded Oliver that maybe they should stop. Maybe there was too much brandy in her system. She stood up.

Riza grabbed onto her. “Why are you stopping?” Her face was flushed, breasts heaving, and Oliver felt something stir in her she hadn't felt since her young lady days when she was toying with Jonathan Mastiff. 

She had played with boys before, but never went all that way because that wouldn't be proper for an Armstrong. And once she got to the military, most men disgusted her. There was a couple rounds with civilians – no way she was going to be a bride so she might as well no longer be a virgin, but as she moved through the ranks the male animosity had grown and she lost all interest in being with one of their kind. And then there was the warehouse incident...

Olivier had never considered women before, a lot of them were too weak, but Riza Hawkeye made her lower abs clench.

“I figured a bed could be more comfortable.” Oliver put out a hand and helped Riza to her feet. The younger blonde was flush against her, Olivier was hating her military jacket at this point, and Oliver couldn’t resist going for a deep kiss. Riza moaned into it, and the general knew they had to leave now if they wanted to make it to the master bedroom. 

She pulled away, leading Riza by her wrists towards the stairs. The windows lining the staircase lacked curtains, but they were small and frosted. Still, there was the potential that someone looking would see two women entangled instead of a male and woman. But Olivier didn't even think of that possibility as she pulled the common woman up the stairs. 

Her bedroom at the estate had contained a huge four poster bed, several couches, and her own sitting room. Olivier's current bedroom was no where near as glamorous. Just a queen with a carved headboard and a wardrobe. She pushed Riza against the wardrobe, kissing her deep enough that Olivier could trace her rear molars. Riza ran her fingers through the older blonde's hair. 

In between kisses, Olivier worked at their clothing. She slipped off first her military jacket, and then Riza's blouse. It was only when she was about to slid Riza's skirt off her hips did she realize the other blonde wasn't doing much. Sure, she was placid and responding to Olivier's attentions, but now that Olivier though about it Riza's habit of randomly placing her hands one place and moving them to another might not be a sign of not knowing what to touch, but of not knowing how. She was young. For all she knew, Oliver had stolen her first kiss down downstairs. Maybe she wasn't trembling from excitement after all.

The general pulled away, standing so she could still feel Riza's body heat but they weren't flushed against each other. “Is this your first time?” she breathed.

“With a woman, yes.”

“So you've kissed a boy before.”

“Of course.”

“But you've never had sex.”

Riza turned her head away. “No.”

In a rare soft moment, Olivier gathered Riza in her arms. “We can stop now, if you're scared.”

“I'm not scared.” Riza snapped back, following her answer with a nip on Olivier's earlobe.

Olivier chucked. “Good. Because if you enlist tomorrow, by the end of the month you will be fighting on the Ishval front. Show me you aren't scared.”

They stood there for a moment. Olivier could feel Riza gathering her thoughts, did she really want to do this? Could she do it? And if she couldn't, should she enlist? While the smaller woman may have been thinking over the questions, Olivier already suspected her answer. Riza had made it this far, capturing the general's attention and having a reason to enlist. She had to have expected to be sent to the front even before walking up to the gates of Central HQ. All Riza needed was to verbalize something already working in her subconscious.

Tentatively, Riza's hands snaked around Olivier's back until they met her bra strap. She unclasped, and as the navy fabric fell away she lifted a breast to suck on it. 

Olivier had never been with a woman, though she could think of a few ways how it might work. But she refused to take control tonight. She thought of it as an exercise for Riza, teaching her to over come her fears, to lead, and think on her feet as to what to do. Olivier knew the other blonde had potential, and she wasn't disappointed. 

While Riza continued to suck on Olivier's breast, she unbuttoned the older woman's pants and pushed them down. They didn't fall all the way, unlike Riza's skirt when she popped open a few buttons, so Riza went down on her knees to pull the blue pants to the floor. Olivier stepped out of them, still in socks, and when Riza was once again standing the general pushed back her hair to get at her neck. 

The other woman tilted her neck further, enjoying the sensation, and then when she realized Olivier wasn't going to do anything else took matters into her own hand. She pushed at the general's chest and Olivier stepped back with a coy smile. Riza pushed again, and again Olivier backed up. Riza did a little hop-push, jumping forward to wrap her arms around the general's neck and forcing Olivier to back step to keep her balance. Her calves hit the bed, and she fell over on it.

This was a position Riza was familiar with, Olivier could tell by the way her hands and movements felt comfortable. While they kissed, Riza's hand move lower to her groin and Olivier could feel the pause. The other blonde was probably thinking of what she did to guys and they were both lacking that equipment. But Riza's hesitation was small and she improvised nicely, running her fingers between Olivier's legs and over the cloth of her underwear. 

It wasn't the first night Olivier had spent with a bed mate that didn't result in an orgasm, but she found she didn't care. Riza and her had spent the afternoon kissing and touching, exploring different parts of their bodies, reaching an arousal plateau but then coming back down and feeling sated. They fell asleep tangled in each other's arms, socks and underwear still on while the rest of their clothes were scattered around the room. 

They woke up a few hours later, Olivier first and then Riza to the feel of her hair being stroked. 

“You passed.” Olivier whispered. 

“Passed what?” Riza whispered back. 

“You just spent time ordering a superior around. It'll help you in the future.”

“Do you often order around those of a higher rank?”

“No, but I did have to bully the Fuhrer into promoting me to major.”

Riza giggled. 

Olivier caught her in a languid kiss, thinking another round of exploration would be nice, but it was late and her stomach was calling for dinner. She checked the clock on the wall. Her maid was always punctual with dinner unless instructed not too. There should be food waiting for them in twenty minutes downstairs. 

“Dinner will be waiting soon. Why don't you shower, and then you can ask me anything you like. I didn't give you much of a chance to talk before, I was to busy listening to my own voice. And ask everything you can think of. I leave for Briggs next week, and I'm sure Bradly will be restricting my communications.”

* * *

Riza asked smart, intelligent questions and came back the next day for an intro to guns lesson and a decent make out session on the couch. It made Olivier sad she was leaving soon, she would have liked to over see Riza's growth from Central, maybe participate in her training. And she hadn't quite had enough time to figure out the merits of lesbian status in the social game. It would keep the men off her, but homosexual relationships were deeper underground than the country's gold safe. Announcing it would be troublesome. 

Once she was at Briggs, news was scarce. Fuhrer Bradly sent her news clippings every so often. Articles about women. There had been one that was an interview with a female automail mechanic, one of the first. Pamphlets on how wives at home could help the war effort. There were a few on the status of the women workforce in general, how it was rising to fill the need left by men enlisting. There was also bit of backlash from her assignment to Briggs, women's groups saying it was the military's way of stating women had no right to fight or lead in times of trouble. Army female news cropped up once in awhile. There was an all female medical corps on the front lines, and a few women soldiers had been interviewed. There was another woman major now, a Hilary Downinghamn, and every picture Bradly sent of was of her in a dress at a social gathering. 

But what really made her proud was the article about the sniper program and it's star new recruit, Riza Hawkeye. The blonde girl had cut her hair, Olivier was surprised that distressed her, but it was obvious that hint of a solid center the general had seen was now in control. The picture of Riza on her belly aiming a rifle showed determined eyes and a confidence few would mess with. Olivier absently wondered if she found who she was looking for.

* * *

When the war ended, the situation for female military personal was different. Enrollment was higher than before the war, strangely enough, and the backlash against working women was almost non-exisitant among the lower classes. The Fuhrer stopped sending her news clippings. The female working issue wasn't a hot topic anymore. There was nothing to send. 

Olivier would wonder about Riza from time to time. Having lived through a war, the young sniper had information and experience Olivier didn't. She didn't expect a letter from Riza to her mentor about wanting helping with something, she would think less of the other blonde if she received such a letter, but a nice hello and catch up would have been nice. Briggs was her home, she felt comfortable here and in control, but word from afar was nice once in a while. 

Riza did send her letter, about a year after the war. It came with a news clipping about the 'Hero of Ishval – State Alchemist Roy Mustang'. Olivier brought to mind the array she had traced on Riza's back, the one Riza said she wanted destroyed. 

The note, was brief. 

_I found him and will follow him, pushing him up to the top. His training is coming along nicely._

_Love, Riza_

Olivier was slightly disappointed in Riza, following his dreams instead of her own, but it seemed like she had established her own type of control on the alchemist. So Riza had developed ice water for blood too. Well, Olivier's had completely frozen.

She wanted to send 'I'll beat him to the top' in reply, but wasn't too sure how closely Bradly was keeping an eye on her communications at the moment. So instead she wrote _Think of him as a dog, men respond to similar training techniques. Let me know if you need help, I've managed to train every one here._

_Love, Olivier_

She knew she had rivals before, or rather human roadblocks, but this alchemist felt different. Olivier decided she hated Roy Mustang.

* * *

Olivier was actually rather surprised that four years after the war she was still in control of Fort Briggs. She had no media attention, her dismissal would probably go unnoticed. As would her death if Bradly really wanted it. She was glad, leaving the military would have been harder than being in it, and it allowed her to fulfill the smile she had given the Fuhrer during that social dinner where he stabbed her repeatedly with his fork. 

Olivier Armstrong took his job. 

She hated admitting that doing so involved help from Roy Mustang, however indirectly. Though she had to say, he wasn't too bad. He kinda reminded her of the Fuhrer actually, or at least her perception of Amestris's leader before they had their falling out. Entertaining, smart, crafty, and determined. Olivier couldn't grudge Riza too much for following him. 

Even if it meant staying on his staff instead of switching to hers. 

“You sure you won't reconsider?” she asked, tracing the burn scar on Riza's back as they lay on the floor of the hallway in the Fuhrer's mansion – they hadn't made it to the bedroom. 

“Yes,” Riza answered, taking Olivier's hand and kissing the palm. “There's this rule about having relationships with your staff see, but it's a lot easier to bend if you're from different departments.”

“Or if one of them is the Fuhrer.” Olivier leaned in to kiss Riza's already swollen lips. 

“Mmm, that too.”

They kissed slowly, warming up to a second round.

“Any more tricks you picked up from libraries or experience you want to share?” Olivier asked as she snaked a hand down Riza's spine, slipping it between her butt cheeks. 

“I was thinking you might show me what you learned at Briggs. You were there for an awfully long time.”

“You could have visited,” Olivier said, knowing that no, Riza really couldn't have. 

“I'm not fond of the cold.”

“That why you joined up with a fire alchemist?”

“No, it cuz -” Riza stopped, frowning. She rolled, forcing Olivier to move to so that Riza was sitting up right and straddling her hips. Her blonde hair, grown again to Olivier's delight, draped over her shoulder. 

“You told me everything, that that first day. But, I never , I never did the same.”

“Do you want to?” Olivier asked, stopping the stokes she was making on Riza's thigh due to the serious nature of the question. “I still love you regardless.”

Riza smiled, and leaned down for a kiss. “And I love you too. We're...kindred spirits. So yes, I want to tell you. I feel like you would understand better than anyone.”

“Now, or do you want those tricks first? I warn you, they're untested because they were for couples of the opposite gender. My men were very fond of...building toys.”

“Toys?” Riza asked around a nipple. 

“No more strokes and friction. I can actually do you.” She brought her hand up to cup Riza's cheek, and then slid it down the rest of her own body. When she got to Riza's groin, she slipped her fingers between them and pushed one into the other blonde's lower cavity. Riza gaped, and ground down, rocking so she rubbed herself on Olivier's finger. 

“T-tricks first.” She said, sucking harder on Olivier's breast only to whimper as Olivier removed her finger. 

“Okay love, but I'm not as young as you. I require a bed this time.”


End file.
